


Chocolate

by feelpil



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Band Fic, Basketball, Bullying, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-18 06:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19329247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelpil/pseuds/feelpil
Summary: Wonpil believed he was just another guy working at the coffee shop. He liked music, played instruments, and went to college—just with a few girls surrounding him here and there—but that wasn't his problem.His problem was that he didn't like the attention.He didn't want a girl.He didn't want a relationship.Well maybe not until Park Sungjin came back and made him want to rethink the last one again.





	1. Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This story was inspired by the song Chocolate (as you may have noticed already) by Day6. If you haven't heard of it already, go give it a play!
> 
> I couldn't promise the best reading experience T.T I'm just doing it for the love of it and day6—but I would love to hear your insights and suggestions!
> 
> Lastly, everything in here is fiction. Enjoy!

People often had divided opinions when asked— _who was the most attractive man in town?_ Half of the women would answer _Park Sungjin_ —the guy who played in the local basketball team, the gentleman with a charming smile, the man with the golden raspy voice; while the other half would answer _Kim Wonpil_ —the mysterious employee at the coffee shop.

 

The latter could care less that he kept being compared to the popular guy he used to be friends with back in middle school, but one of his problems was that gaining attention wasn't his thing at all. In fact, he had tried his absolute best to avoid it for the past few years—going as far as keeping himself from joining extracurricular activities, even if it meant that he had to work much harder than those who did. Joining competitions were almost like free passes to good grades, but it was mostly an inconvenience for the boy. There was an exception, however—the only time he joined was when the school held a talent fest back in middle school, and since then, things have changed drastically for the shy boy at the back of the class.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Mr. Cho cautiously placed the history book back on the table after a long discussion about the second world war. Just as the book touched the blue wooden surface, the previously silent kids howl in excitement—packing up their things, getting ready to leave the room assuming that classes have ended—but the teacher slams a hand on the board to calm the students down. This situation wasn't new to him at all, but it was still displeasing to witness the sudden havoc the students induced. "We're not done yet, students. I have an announcement to make."_

 

_The students audibly whine. As the boys and girls sat back on their seats and dropped their bags, the teacher proceeds to the board, writing a few words out._

 

_"Foundation week is upcoming and we'll be having activities anyone could join. It will all be credited in your Homeroom and PE grades so you should still come to school." The teacher places the marker back in his small pouch. "Mr. President, please read out the details on the board."_

 

_The guy at the far right by the first row leapt to his feet in an instant and clears his throat, to which he earned a few snickers from the students from the last row. One boy from the same row turns his head away from the entire scene, picking up his pencil._

 

 _Foundation Week_  
_(January 16-20)_  
_Activity categories:_  
_1\. Sports     2. Arts_  
_3\. Literature     4. Music_  
_5\. Dance_

 

_After the student read everything out clearly, the students raise their hands in excitement._

 

_"Can we join more than one category?"_

_"How many students does each class need for the volleyball team?"_

_"Will there be cash prizes?"_

 

_The class went wild with the last question. Mr. Cho smiles at the students' enthusiasm. He hadn't seen this energy from any of his History classes. "Yes, for each category."_

 

_"Woah, let's join everything and win! Then we'll have the best end-of-year party."_

 

_The students raised their hands one by one as every category got filled out—except for the fourth one. Mr. Cho stands in the middle of the class. "We need at least one person to represent the class for each category. One more for Music category."_

 

_The students look at each other in silence. None of them wanted to stand onstage alone._

 

_"Wonpil," Park Jinyoung—seated at the very back of the class—nudges his friend beside him, who seemed disengaged from the discussion. "You didn't even join one?"_

 

_"It's a hassle." Wonpil blurts out, while staring out the window, twirling a pencil between his fore and middle fingers._

 

_"We need at least one for Music category. You can play the piano, right? We went to music class together." Jinyoung was excited about the upcoming foundation week. It was an event where anyone could excel and gain additional points for grades—he didn't understand why his friend Wonpil wasn't into it at all. "Mr. Cho usually gives points when we earn a place—he didn't tell it now but he will when he finds out we won."_

 

_"Then why don't you?"_

 

_"I already joined two categories. Were you even listening this whole time?" Jinyoung sighs. "I already have soccer and dance."_

 

_"I don't want to." Wonpil pulled his seat an inch away from Jinyoung. By now, it should have been clear that Wonpil didn't want to get involved, but Jinyoung wasn't the type to give up easily._

 

_"Fine. If you won't, then..." Jinyoung faced the front and proceeds to raise his hand, while Wonpil stared back out the window. The sky was dark and cloudy._

 

_"You already joined two Jinyoung," Mr. Cho reminded, but Jinyoung jolts up._

 

_"It's not for me sir," The boy points to his friend over his left. "Kim Wonpil can play the piano."_

 

_A pencil drops on the floor. Wonpil's system ran cold as soon as he heard his own name, and he didn't even have time to pick up his pencil on the ground—the class immediately turned their heads around to see the curly-haired boy in glasses. "You should've told us you could play!"_

 

_But Wonpil didn't look like he wanted to join at all. Jinyoung sat back down and faced his friend. "Come on, just this time. It's for the whole class."_

 

_"Will you join Kim Wonpil?" The teacher returns to his table and picks up the paper where he listed out the participants. Wonpil didn't have to answer—Mr. Cho was already writing out his name silently while waiting for a response._

 

_Wonpil's eyes land back on his friend Jinyoung. "I swear you're dead after this."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

The curly-haired boy walks back to the kitchen, dismissing his thoughts. _Park Jinyoung, that fool_. Well, he already guessed—today was another busy day. He takes another peek over the counter where a line of girls have formed. A sigh escapes his lips while he tied the laces of his apron behind his narrow waist.

 

_The day was just getting started._


	2. Him

 

The _café_ wasn't just the usual crowded by 4PM—it was _packed_. The mysterious barista was one reason why, but for a regular coffee shop far from the public University, it was strangely populated.

 

"Wonpil. What did you do again?" Jimin, another part-timer at the café Wonpil was working at, nudges him by the side, her eyebrows knitted. "It looks like half of the town came in and we don't even have a sale."

 

"Jimin, be careful." Kevin, another part-timer, turns his head around to face the short lady with his playful smirk. "His _fan girls_  might come at you if you hurt him."

 

"I seriously don't get the hype around this guy." Jimin walked toward Kevin to whisper. "I mean, he looks good but what else? This guy is pretty quiet so I don't know how he's so famous."

 

"Jimin, you really won't until you hear him sing." Kevin stretches his thumb out shortly after he poured in a teaspoon of blueberry flavoring on the drink he was making.

 

"Wonpil SINGS?" Jimin might have said it a little too loud. Her small hands latch on her mouth right after. The customers were glaring at her as she looked around. This time, with a softer voice, she queried. "Kevin, you _heard_ him sing?"

 

"Yeah, we used to study in the same school. His popularity boosted right after that event." Kevin shrugged. "Right Wonpil?"

 

The curly-haired boy didn't respond, busy dealing with the customers and taking orders. If only he had the luxury of time, he would have stopped Kevin from revealing his hidden past in the first place, but it was too late for him to even interject.

 

"But don't you sing too, Kevin?" Jimin smirked. "Where's your fans?"

 

"Ha ha." Kevin faked a smile. "We're running out of cups so could you please just work?"

 

Jimin sighs and heads to the tables to collect the glass cups.

 

As she was cleaning out one of the tables, she accidentally eavesdropped on two of the customers gossiping. She could have just ignored it and continued working, but unfortunately, it sounded like they might have been intending for her to hear the conversation. She couldn't help it.

 

_"That worker's hair color is so tacky."_

 

_"Seriously, who colors their hair that red anyways? It looks ugly."_

 

 _"Well... It could have worked if she weren't already..."_ The first girl covered her mouth right after and held in a laugh. _"I couldn't even say it."_

 

Jimin well knew that the girls were talking about her—after all, there wasn't anyone else in the cafe who had that hair color the customers were talking about. She turns her head towards the two girls who were talking about her. They were smirking.

 

 _"Look—she's trying to glare us out of this café."_ The first girl laughed.

 

_"I wouldn't be in this place if it weren't for Wonpil anyways. This place is so bland."_

 

Her hands were aching to pull on the strands of their fried blond hairs. She inhaled and placed the cup back down on the table with a thud. "Y—"

 

 _"It isn't right to insult someone like that."_ An unfamiliar voice halts her. Jimin turns to where the voice came from. _"Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you can step on someone else like that. Get your heads off the clouds."_

 

The two girls seemed shocked and ashamed. The café immediately filled itself with whispers.

 

_"No wonder the café's full. That's Park Sungjin over there,"_

 

_"What is he doing here? Woah. The two visuals met here,"_

 

Wonpil pauses from placing the bills in the cashier to look over where the commotion was coming from. His eyes widen at the sight of a very familiar face. He couldn't be mistaken—That was _the_ guy from middle school. The lady magnet. The MVP.

 

_Class 6-A representative, Park Sungjin. Second place._

 

The two girls silently stood up to leave with lowered heads, rattled. Sungjin shifts his eyes back to the counter. A smile formed somewhere near the corners of his lips. _"Kim Yeonpil. I've been looking for you."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

_A week before the entire foundation event, the students were asked to gather by the categories they joined to discuss the rules for the contests. This was the last place Wonpil wanted to be in. He didn't know anyone else from the other classes._

 

_Wonpil had another problem—he was late for the meeting. Their Science subject ended twenty minutes late, so he had to run to the assigned room for the meeting. Panting heavily, he opens the door to room number 401._

 

_"Are you from class 6-B?" The teacher at the front adjusts her glasses. "You're late. Take a seat."_

 

_Wonpil was once again conflicted. There was nowhere else he could sit—well, there was, practically. One student had the whole row to himself at the very back of the room, and there were only three seats. Apparently, no one wanted to sit beside the rumored scary guy from the province, but he didn't have a choice. His feet plodded toward the armchair, a seat apart from the infamous boy._

 

_"Hey,"_

 

_Wonpil hesitantly turns his head to face the black-haired guy who was trying to talk to him. Didn't they say he was scary? 'Why is he talking to me?' The boy was confused._

 

_"We talked about the maximum minutes for each performance earlier. You can only perform for five minutes and that would include the time to set up." Wonpil didn't understand why the boy was explaining to him. Shouldn't the teacher be the one telling this? "We'll have rehearsal on-stage on Saturday along with the dancers, be sure to come before 8 AM."_

 

_He faces to the front and realized that the teacher was already gone. Was that why this guy was talking to him? He turned his head back to the scary boy, who was now laughing at him. Suddenly, he didn't look so scary._

 

_"That was our Math teacher. She doesn't like to repeat things for late comers, so I thought I'd tell you instead."_

 

_Wonpil still hasn't said a word—partly because he was still intimidated, but for the most part, he found it amusing that the 'guy' actually seemed friendly. "U-uh, thanks."_

 

_The girl at the front row hesitantly walks toward the two of them to pass the circulars. The guy takes it and tries to smile, but the girl immediately turned around right before she could look at his face. The guy's smile fell to a discouraged frown._

 

_Wonpil watched as the boy shuffled through his bag in slight panic. Looking over the circulars, he guessed that he might need something to write._

 

_"Do you need a pen?" Wonpil says, softly._

 

_The boy's eyes batted twice in surprise that the curly haired boy wasn't avoiding eye contact now._

 

_"Hold on." Wonpil pulls out a pencil from the pocket of his bag. "It's a pencil but I guess it's fine."_

 

_"Thanks," The boy's face lit up. Wonpil handed him the pencil and watched as the guy filled out the list with details about their song choice and the instrument they're playing it with. Lastly, at the top of the paper, the guy wrote:  Park Sungjin, 6-A. The boy quickly handed the paper and pencil right after he was done._

 

_Wonpil filled out the blanks like Sungjin did._

 

_"So, your name's Wonpil?" Sungjin blurts and tries to smile, again—hoping that this time he'd actually have someone to get to know. Wonpil understood why Sungjin was labeled like that—his Busan accent was strong. Wonpil didn't take that as an excuse to avoid Sungjin. "Wonpil with a pencil—Kim Yeonpil."_

 

_"And you're Sungjin without a pencil." The curly haired boy's lips finally pull up to a smile._

 

_"Sungjin without a Yeonpil." The two chuckle in unison—disregarding the other students' weird looks. That day, Sungjin was sure he made a friend._

 

 


	3. Fish in the Hook

If Wonpil had to put the whole day in just a few words, he'd answer— _surreal_. Or maybe, he wouldn't have answered the question at all, and instead, would have asked Kevin to pinch him hard for a quick reality check. But he couldn't do that. If it were a dream, he would have been able to make the long line of customers disappear within a snap, or he wouldn't be there in the café at all. Faint whispers filled the room, all while the same name oscillated from each corner of the small shop.

 

Hearing his name for more than ten times was the only indication Wonpil needed to confirm it wasn't just a dream. The uneasiness that sat in the pit of his stomach stood replacement for the pain of a pinch.

 

Him feeling dazed was reasonable, since Park Sungjin was the last person Wonpil expected to see that day. In fact, he didn't even think about meeting Sungjin ever again after 8th grade, when the scary-turned-popular boy suddenly moved back to Busan. Without an explanation. Without a proper goodbye. But that was another story.

 

During the span of two hours, Wonpil kept glancing at the wall clock by the corner—a way to distract himself from Sungjin's heavy aura. Just something about his presence made him feel so paranoid, like every move had to be cautious and calculated—but what happened was the complete opposite.

 

Wonpil had never been this clumsy at work.

 

It even got to the point that he almost tipped a hot glass of coffee over a customer's phone, which would have escalated to a bigger scene of conflict. Thankfully, he didn't, but it didn't mean he was was safe from embarrassments anymore after that—he kept on stepping on his customers' shoes while cleaning out tables, getting the names wrong, or forgetting a recipe. His hair was already disarray from running his fingers through his hair countless times every time he made small mistakes.

 

And not to mention the number of times Wonpil had mentally cursed.

 

Meanwhile, Sungjin remained unbothered. Unlike how Wonpil thought he would be watching, the man was completely occupied. Seated by the corner beside the glass pane, he was either on his phone, typing away, or picking up short and somewhat loud calls.

 

Occasionally, regulars in the Cafe would gossip about Wonpil, but today, the main talk was about Park Sungjin; his reputation in the University he attends, and _why the hell was he even here_. It was a shocking sight to catch him sitting at a Cafe. Usually, people would spot him at the gym, in class, or at band practice—he was a busy guy—but even so, he wouldn't be spending two hours waiting at a coffee shop for nothing.

 

Sungjin had an agenda, of course.

 

 _And did the mysterious barista and him know each other?_ The spectators silently gasp. _From where?_

 

By around 6 PM—Wonpil's shift had finally ended. The raw sound of glass cups clinking and water rushing from the kitchen filled the entire room, instead of whispers. There was only the two of them.

 

Wonpil trudged his way to where his old friend sat, lips pursed tightly—he didn't know exactly what to say or feel. After all, it's been almost five years since they have last seen each other. _Five years_ —Wonpil repeats to himself—but it seems like Sungjin hasn't changed that much at all. Maybe except for his hairstyle; Sungjin finally cut his hair short—his bangs short enough that it doesn't fall over his eyes like it always used to. Wonpil kept complaining about him keeping his hair long and untidy back in middle school. Sungjin never understood why. Now that he gave it a shot, he realized that Wonpil was somehow right about his hair. An undercut was definitely better than a bowl cut.

 

Aside from that, Wonpil felt at ease knowing that Sungjin was still the same guy he knew from middle school—his eyes still warm as ever, and his hands still motions all over the place whenever he speaks. He was still as goofy as he last saw him, and Wonpil almost didn't want to admit—

 

_Sungjin was still as attractive._

 

Even better now that he knew how to dress himself, he asserted, but _no_. He knew he had to erase that thought right away. He wasn't wrong—it was just that he felt the need to word that differently.

 

 _Charming_ —he clarified.

 

"So—you were the reason why the Cafe was packed today." Wonpil untied the laces of his apron before he proceeded to sit in front of Sungjin, gathering his usual stoic act.

 

"Nah," Sungjin chuckles and peeks at his friend. He raises a brow right after. "I heard this place is always full."

 

The small gesture highlighted a small cut on Sungjin's brow, which made Wonpil worry more than he should be at the moment, as it wasn't just a normal trendy slit—he knew what fashion looked like. It wasn't there before. Wonpil brought his attention back to his own cup of coffee. He lifts the cup and brought it to his lips.

 

"It is, for some reason. Maybe the coffee is good."

 

"Or maybe the barista is good looking." Sungjin jested.

 

Suddenly, the curly haired boy recoiled his lips from the hot cup with a wince. Sungjin watched as his friend scrambled to find something to wipe off the coffee that spilled on his white shirt.

 

Wonpil glares at guy before him, who was now holding in a chuckle. Park Sungjin truly hasn't changed.

 

"Why are you laughing?"

 

"Did that surprise you? I thought you've already established within yourself that you're pretty handsome." Sungjin leans his head on a fist, a smile hinted from his cheekbones. He sounded full of mockery. Wonpil makes a bitter face.

 

"I'm not," Wonpil bit his lower lip where it burned, while patting his shirt with a tissue. That would surely leave a stain. "Don't joke like that again."

 

"You're still as modest." Wonpil felt Sungjin's eyes darting on him. The hairs at the back of his head lift.

 

"And you're still as bad." Wonpil stood up from his seat, wearing a distressed expression. "I'll be back after I get my stuff."

 

Sungjin watched as the boy shuffled back to the kitchen. Kim Wonpil was indeed different, and he always found it interesting. He wasn't like the other guys he met who would claim compliments in an instant. Even though his appearance exuded confidence, Wonpil was still, somehow, easily flustered when hearing a compliment out of the blue.

 

Wonpil's waist touches the cold metal as he leaned on the kitchen counter right when he was out of the guy's sight. Today's events have left him drained physically and mentally. Today was such a mess. Wonpil bit on the flesh of his cheek for the nth time and inhaled deeply. You know what else was a mess?

 

His hands land on his chest where the coffee stain formed. He felt his heart race through the thin fabric of his shirt.

 

 _God, It's been five damn years._ He exhaled. By now, he should at least be over the butterflies, as they used to say. This wasn't the situation he expected himself to be in, if he had to ask his past self about the future. He was in college now, paying some of his bills on his own—he shouldn't be swooning over a crush he had way back in high school, right?

 

He tried to rationalize every single thought that came with the name Park Sungjin.

 

But he still felt the same.

 

It's always been the same.

 

Every single thought of him just made his heart race faster.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sungjin could almost physically see the question mark that was drawn on Wonpil's face as soon as their eyes met earlier. He watched as the boy blinked thrice with his mouth hung open, speechless. It was a usual sight for him, and that, he found settling. Some habits really stick around even after years, and unfortunately, for Wonpil, it was his priceless reactions. He had just told on two girls who were talking ill of the part-time worker, whom he later learned was Jamie. Then, after the scene had been somehow subsided, he headed over to Wonpil behind the registrar.

 

"How long 'til your shift ends?" Sungjin leaned on the counter. As if suddenly snapped to his senses, the boy promptly checks the wall clock, eyes shaking.

 

"T-two hours." The boy exhaled. Wonpil proceeded to give the customer her change. "Wow, uhm... It's been long, Sungjin, but... I'm busy right now."

 

"I'll wait." Sungjin chuckles while he nodded. Wonpil watched as the guy walked toward the end of the line.

 

Sungjin had just moved in this town, and while he was used to the buzz that circulated around him all the time, he was shocked to hear the first gossip that reached him—Kim Wonpil has a rival. He didn't need to listen to the whole sentence to decipher—Kim Wonpil, his friend from middle school, was in the same town as him.

 

When he heard the rumor, he immediately had to know where to find the boy, because the news of Wonpil being in the same town wasn't just sudden—it was right in time.

 

While he was famous for his skills in basketball, he was also well known for being one of the pioneer members of the local school band—5LIVE. They were originally an acoustic trio—Jae, Junhyeok, and him, until they found Dowoon to play the Drums and Brian to play the Bass. Recently, the group faced a dilemma when Junhyeok, the pianist, suddenly had to leave because of an emergency. They needed to perform soon, and they needed a substitute. That was Sungjin's agenda.

 

"Didn't you say you had a favor?"

 

Wonpil says, now in a clean black shirt, wearing his cap backwards to tame his hair. After an hour of talking and catching up, they finally decide to leave the Cafe and walk back home. The two were only a block apart from each other.

 

"Will you say yes?"

 

"Depends on what you're asking me to do." Wonpil shrugged. Sungjin well knew that it was unlikely for Wonpil to say yes, so he thought of something.

 

"Then, let's make a deal." Sungjin stops in his tracks and soon, Wonpil did, too. They stood under a light post right beside an empty street. "You told me you wanted to come to Japan, didn't you?"

 

Wonpil's eyes widened at an instant. Sungjin took that as a cue to continue.

 

"Well, we have a three day trip to Japan scheduled with my four other band mates, but Junhyeok couldn't make it." Sungjin's hands moved while he spoke, but Wonpil was focused on his eyes to tell if he was lying. "So if you say yes, you can come with us in place of him."

 

Wonpil didn't know what to say. Was Sungjin really asking him to come with them to Japan? Was he serious? Well, he would, but it dawned on him that he was broke. It was almost impossible for him to get a ticket to Japan that easily. "W-wait, is that the favor? I'm confused. You know I'm practically broke."

 

Sungjin shook his head. "It's paid. We were asked to perform in Brian's cousin's wedding."

 

"Wait... " He couldn't believe it, but he had to gather himself back to his stoic act. "What's the favor?"

 

_"Play the keys for our band."_

 

"Play the keys for—" Wonpil halts. _"No way."_

 

There was a reason why Wonpil hated the crowd and the spotlight. By saying yes, it would mean that he'd jump right in that fear head-first. _It was happening again,_ he thought. He didn't need that middle school to high school drama again in his life. He didn't need all that internal struggle coming at him again.

 

Partly disappointed, Sungjin slowly nodded and continued walking. He understood, but he still silently grieved on the fact that he needed to find someone who could play the piano again. It wasn't that he couldn't find anyone—in fact, he could easily post a note by the bulletin board and have loads of students auditioning for it the next day.

 

But it wasn't his aim to just find a keyboardist.

 

Wonpil slowly watched from behind as Sungjin walked. He could have let it just slide like that. One clear no was all he needed to have a peaceful life again, for him to avoid all the chaos that came with the fame.

 

But something inside him craved for that old adventure. Somehow, he couldn't stand the idea of him going back to the Cafe tomorrow completely unscathed with a bad decision. At that moment, he realized—he'd been playing safe for his entire life.

 

Until Sungjin came. The devil himself offering the whole getaway. For free.

 

And now, he watched as the broad of his back grew blurry. He could have easily took the opposite direction, back to home—but his mind flashed back to the bright lights of Tokyo that he only got to witness through photos. Suddenly, he couldn't bare the thought of that plane ticket landing on someone else's possession. _Fuck it._ He was ready to risk. For whatever reason his mind was making.

 

It was definitely not because of or for Sungjin.

 

"Alright." Wonpil blurts, loud enough that he knew Sungjin could hear. "I'll be his substitute."

 

The latter turns to face his friend while a smile slowly formed on his lips. He didn't expect the way events turned the way it did. He walks back to Wonpil and snooped an arm around the lean boy's shoulder.

 

Wonpil didn't know what to expect—all he knew at that moment was that it was going to be one hell of a ride—and that he was 5 inches away from a complete heart attack that might be caused by Sungjin suddenly pulling him close.

 

_"Then welcome to the team."_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Wonpil stared at the screen of his phone for a good minute. It was Park Sungjin's Facebook account, and below stated: Friends. It was real. He was really back, and they were finally reunited. _But... why?_

 

He picks up his phone and scrolled down his friend's profile. He had a ton of pictures tagged to him with a lot of other guys; occasionally, girls who clung onto his arm while holding a peace sign near their face. Wonpil placed his phone back down on his table with a thump and continued to dry his curls with a towel.

 

It was undeniable that Sungjin was popular now; though he was before, this time, it was on another level. He was like a celebrity. He had a thousand friends and hundred of likes on his photos. Surely, he would have forgotten about that random guy from middle school, right?

 

Because Wonpil did.

 

After Sungjin's disappearance, he tried his very best to just pretend that he never existed. He went back to his usual quiet self—only that he wasn't unnoticed this time. From 9th grade on, Wonpil forgot about Sungjin.

 

Or at least, he convinced himself he did.

 

_"It's been what? Five years?"_

 

_"Yeah. I was surprised you still remember me."_

 

_"Silly." Sungjin chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm surprised you didn't throw fists at me."_

 

_"For what?"_

 

_"You know... For leaving so suddenly."_

 

He brought his knees to his chest and exhaled heavily. He felt like he was missing something. _For what reason did Sungjin come back?_ Because that guy most probably didn't need Wonpil. And because he didn't want all these mixed feelings coming back to him.

 

He didn't need another reminder that he was _different_.


	4. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Before we proceed, the story will mention heavy themes like anxiety and homophobia from here. Please read with caution!

 

The mysterious barista was _everywhere_ , and yet, at the same time, was hard to find. Despite being well-known by citizens in town, he was a very private person—this easily proven by barely a three-page scroll on his SNS account.

 

As opposed to the typical famous person’s lifestyle, Wonpil spends most of his summer break at the cafe. During Saturdays, he'd help at his aunt’s diner and would stay the night until the next day. That usually went on for three years, starting when he first moved in the neighborhood during 11th grade and he didn't want to spend weekends alone. It was his usual routine, and it was fine, if you had to leave out the part where random people would suddenly ask him for a picture while working. Sometimes he didn't even bother dressing up in hopes to avoid this. He wanted to look as normal as everyone else—with a cap worn backwards, a shirt, and plain summer shorts. Sometimes the disguise would work; oftentimes, it didn't matter what he wore.

 

Now, he stands before a small diner with tall glass windows and walls in freshly-painted jade. This time, he wasn’t there to stay—he also wasn’t alone.

 

"You sure?" A crease forms between Wonpil’s eyebrows. It was scorching hot early in the morning. "You’re sweating."

 

"I'm fine. I'll just wait out." Sungjin put a hand over his head with squinted eyes, mirroring his friend. His lips were pursed tight. He shouldn’t have worn the flannel in this weather, he thought. “You wouldn’t take long, right?”

 

"We could've just met at the university." Wonpil's hand crashed on the side of his waist while his posture shifted to a vexed hunch. "I didn't even ask you to wait for me outside our house."

 

"If you say it like that, you'll make me sound like a creep." Sungjin snorts. It was true that he waited outside Wonpil's house earlier, which the latter found surprising—only because he didn't read Sungjin's text beforehand last night. “Don’t you check your inbox?”

 

"I—"

 

"Wonpil!" A croaky voice cooed from behind. The boy immediately turned, the crease on his forehead slowly relieved the second he recognized whom the voice was from. "What are you doing out there? Get inside!"

 

The woman peeked behind the diner's door with curious eyes, and heavily drawn-on eyebrows raised. Her voice suggested that she might be in her early 40s, but her figure says otherwise—she stood barely five feet tall with black, wavy hair that fell just below her shoulder, and thick glasses that hung on the bridge of her nose. Like the ones Wonpil wore during middle school. Sungjin exhaled a short laugh to himself as the image popped in his head.

 

"She said let's go in."

 

Wonpil turns back to Sungjin. The distressed expression reappears on his face. Only this time, his hands softly grip Sungjin's wrist before he dragged him inside. Sungjin didn't have a choice—or more like he chose not to complain any further.

 

 

While Wonpil and his aunt Lia disappeared in the kitchen, Sungjin stayed behind the counters, looking around. The floors had the usual wooden finish, glossy tables beside the window pane, and a countertop by the center. The interior was simple, clean, and the glass panes allowed enough daylight to illuminate the small shop even without the lights turned on. Wonpil had told him the diner was almost a decade old, and yet somehow, it didn’t seem like it was. The boy said _‘it was something he’ll know only if he tried’_  flatly, and somehow, Sungjin found himself repeating the remark in his head. He thought he should make it his motivation phrase for when the next time he visits the gym with __Dowoon__.

 

His eyes then land on a small, scarlet vase across the room. It reminded him of his hometown, back in Busan, when her grandma would keep vases in every corner of the house. She loved flowers. He wished he could have given her ones when she was still here. His fingers traced the marble surface of the tables, mind adrift, until he reaches the door to the kitchen.

 

"That guy, I've never seen him before." The lady said.

 

"He's a friend from middle school. He just moved in the neighborhood." Wonpil's voice was soft and small, which was unusual. Sungjin was surprised to hear him talk with a bit of life. "But I didn't come to stay, auntie. I couldn't help you for the next few weeks. I'm sorry."

 

Sungjin listened as the two briefly conversed about their customers after Lia said it was okay that he couldn't help out and she was fine by herself. He couldn't help but notice his friend's tone which sounded polite and careful, as opposed to the usual harsh and flat one.

 

Wonpil finally walks out of the kitchen with two tupperwares on hand, and a smiling lady beside him. Sungjin pretended he didn't hear the conversation and smiled back at Lia.

 

 

The next few hours went by in a flash—after Wonpil and Sungjin bid goodbye to Lia, they went straight to the university Sungjin attends, the tupperwares still on hand. They have argued countless times during the bus ride which resulted a few side-eyes from the passengers—whether they should buy takeouts or just eat the lunchbox Lia prepared for both of them. Sungjin suggested that they eat out, while Wonpil otherwise. Sungjin backed up that he was going to save the lunchbox for dinner, and Wonpil insisted that it was better to eat it sooner. Wonpil, with crossed eyebrows, told his friend he didn't make sense. Sungjin surrendered. The latter would have reasons, but most of the time he wouldn’t bother to explain, and Wonpil wasn’t the most patient one out there.

 

Wonpil sighs in relief this time, that he wasn’t feeling all the _jitters_ —maybe because they were too busy getting fired up. They hop off the bus and Wonpil follows Sungjin only a step behind so he could collect himself. He didn’t know the campus was this huge. His eyes wander around the open area, until it returned to the broad of Park Sungjin's back.

 

 _And damn, basketball really changed Sungjin._ Just as he realized this, he immediately shook the thought out of his head.

 

They proceed to walk inside the campus silently. There wasn't much to talk about if they weren't arguing, so Wonpil tried his hardest not to overthink the fact that it was only the two of them. Again.

 

"This reminds me of middle school." Sungjin breathes, looking around. It was a Saturday during summer, and it was empty. "Back when we had rehearsals before the contest."

 

"Yeah..." Wonpil grew more silent. "Good times."

 

They reach the hallways and turn a few corners, and finally, they were in front of the band's studio. The musicians' lounge, as they call it. Sungjin peeks inside the window and frowned upon the sight of a dark room. The other guys were late again. He looks at Wonpil who was already situated on the floor, cross-legged. Sungjin joins him, just a few inches apart.

 

"So—"

 

Somehow, they said in unison. Sungjin cocks his head back and gestured. "You go first."

 

"No, you go first." Wonpil waved his hands.

 

"You—" Sungjin had almost raised the tone of his voice, until he noticed a frown on the corners of his friend's lips. "Fine."

 

_If only Kim Wonpil didn’t pout like that._

 

_And  they still argue about the smallest things, even after years. Some things do stick around._

 

He clears his throat to somehow knock some of the awkward air out his chest.  _Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ask this now,_ he thought. _But it wouldn’t matter that much anyways, right? It’s been five years._ He just had to confirm. It shouldn't be that bad, right?

 

"Why'd you stop joining the fests?" Sungjin looked down at his feet. Soon, Wonpil did too.

 

"I just didn't like it." Wonpil's jaw clenched. It was true, but Sungjin hoped for a more detailed answer.

 

"I mean, you were fine after __that__  competition. You didn't seem to be bothered by your _new friends_." Sungjin added. "You even promised you'd join with me during 7th grade, but suddenly you backed out. Why?"

 

Wonpil felt his heart drop. He thought he didn't need to explain because he was pretty sure _no one_  would even ask. Jinyoung didn’t. All the others didn’t. He thought people would already expect him to be like __that__. He thought he hid it so damn well.

 

"I... just don't like being the center of attention. It's that simple." His voice sounded sharp, like he didn’t want him to ask any further. Sungjin was taken aback by his tone. "I need to go to the restroom. I'll be back."

 

Wonpil's footseps echoed through the empty hallways. As the sound slowly faded out, Sungjin heaved a deep sigh. _He was right. He shouldn’t have asked._

 

But he knew the answer was more than just what Wonpil said. He knew something happened.

 

  

* * *

 

 

_Kim Wonpil, class 6-B. First place._

 

_The crowd went wild—but one section from the audience were particularly loud. It was his own class. Wonpil stood in disbelief at the center of the stage, waving at his classmates who were cheering on him right after his name was announced. The sash was worn across his body and a trophy was handed to him.  Everything felt surreal.  As he stepped down from the stage, the boys and girls from his class rushed over to him and they encircled him in a tight hug—one that almost took all the air out of the curly haired boy's lungs. His eyes were blurry, not because he didn’t wear his glasses that time. His smile was wider than ever.  He locks eyes with Sungjin and the boy grins just as wide as he did._

 

_The next few weeks were smooth for the boy. First, walking through the hallways was a breeze. He didn't have to slam himself through people anymore, and instead—he was given a path soon as people saw him. Second, his classmates became friendlier. He wasn't just a wallflower now, at least. He'd be called by his  actual  name and not just any other nickname like 'four-eyes'—well, he eventually got rid of the thick glasses and replaced them with lighter, cooler ones. Maybe that was why he wasn't called four-eyes anymore. Lastly, he had free stuff during Valentines, most of which he shared with Jinyoung or he brought home. He didn't like this part, to tell you the truth. He wanted to tell the girls not to waste their money on him, but even though he would, the senders usually keep their identities anonymous. He had no choice but to bring the excess stuff home._

 

_The last few weeks of 6th grade was a bit more calm, which he liked.  He thought the past few weeks were too much for a single win, and this time, he was relieved that he was treated much more like a normal human.  He went on with his usual tasks, chatted with his new friends, and watched basketball—that he will get into detail later—but it was all in all the best way a school year could have ended for any student out there. A better reputation, new friends._

 

_Talent fest wasn’t so bad, huh?_

 

_Everything was normal, until during the last day of school, when everyone suddenly left early, leaving him and another student in the classroom  alone . But he continued on clearing out his locker at the very back of the room. He had promised to watch Sungjin's last game that day, which was why he was in a rush. He was running late. Very late._

 

_Then the girl he was alone with in the room called him by his full name and he looked her in the eye. Soon, she locked eyes with him, too. Her cheeks were painted crimson, as she held out a thinly folded piece of paper. He took it but never opened it. Wonpil knew what this was, but it never happened to him until today. Jinyoung told him about these kind of things.  He never thought it would happen to him, too._

 

_It was the first time a girl had confessed to him._

 

_The next thing he remembered from that day was running to the gym to catch the game that had already ended._

 

_The first year of high school was a bit different—a lot of the girls had looked more mature and some of the boys have grown taller, wearing oddly loud hairstyles. Some girls became popular among the boys and some boys became popular among the girls. Some started going out._

 

_For Wonpil it was all the same, until he watched the basketball game and somehow, something sat in the pit of his stomach whenever his friend, Sungjin, held the ball. The way his hair brushed away from his face when he ran across the court, and the glimmer in his eyes when the ball went right in. Their eyes instantly meet and a small smile would form on the edges of his lips. This thing was new to him, and it never happened before, with anyone else._

 

_He started to wear his slacks a bit tighter and used a blower to tame his hair every morning. Just so that Sungjin would stop teasing his curls. Because of this, a lot more girls hung around him during recess and lunch. Sometimes even until he reached home. He didn't expect that people would notice._

 

_But then , it was all fine until before the foundation week  where they all had to compete._

 

_And guess who was representing the class again?_

 

_Kim Wonpil, class 7-B. Rejected Lee Jiwon._

 

_The room filled with hollers—one much different from when Mrs. Lee announced how much the prizes were for each category. The hollers were heavy, mischievous, and lasted longer.  It didn’t sound good._

 

_He didn't know where the hell the news came from or how anyone else knew. He was sure that there was only the two of them during that day when she confessed, and if anyone had to spill, it definitely wasn't him. Not that it mattered anyway—by that time he was already under the spotlight. The unconventional type. And another classmate had to repeat it again, just in case everyone didn't hear: Lee Jiwon, the hottest girl in 7th grade—the representative for the beauty pageant—was the same girl he rejected back in the last day of 6th grade. And the issue blew out of proportion._

 

_For the next days, the boys from his class avoided him, and some of the girls who used to follow him around had stopped talking to him. He wondered why. Jinyoung was still his friend, but still, he was busy with dance practice that they already had even before foundation week was announced. Sungjin often hung out with the basketball team and he didn't want to interfere. He was left alone again, and he pretended it didn't bother him that much. After all, he was used to it…  Right?_

 

_Just that one day, he had to hear a few things. About him. And the walls he built to protect himself started to crumble._

 

_"That boy is quite different, huh?"_

 

_"I mean, he dumped her. I guess."_

 

_"Why would he dump Jiwon? If I were him I'd be a man and say yes.  Heck. "_

 

_"Well, she's with Sungjin now. He's way better than him. Wonpil is just odd … Some guys think the same way. "_

 

_Wonpil froze in the cubicle, his hand latched to his mouth to prevent any sound. He didn't want to hear the conversation any further, but he couldn't just leave .  His feet were glued to the ground._

 

_"Dude, aren't they friends? Man, basketball really does something to you. Maybe Wonpil should try haha."_

 

_"Dude that guy can't throw a ball."_

 

_The two boys' laughs occupied every empty corner in the bathroom for the longest five  seconds. Unnerving silence followed._

 

_"... What if he's gay?"_

 

_Wonpil didn't know what that meant at that time. They made it sound like a disease._

 

_"I heard them say it but what’s that?"_

 

_"They like guys. Dad said it was bad to come close to them."_

 

_“I wouldn’t.”_

 

_That day, Wonpil remembered running to the rooftop while he tried to blink out the tears that welled up in his eyes. There was nowhere else to be alone, because even the bathroom felt suffocating. His throat was aching and throbbing like it was being pierced with a thousand needles, and his whole body was ice-cold. He half-stumbled through the last steps of the stairway, and when the cold breeze hit the skin of his throat, he quickly had to find something to hold on   to. The next thing he knew, he was throwing up every last bit of his breakfast that morning—which wasn't much—just black coffee._

 

_Bent over the walls and gasping for breath, h e found his thoughts stuck on one word: gay. It flashed in his mind in bold text, painted in bright red, almost like headlights—and in that moment, he couldn't help but guilt over the feelings he's had for the past few weeks. It was already confusing enough for him—how he always tried to rationalize everything unusual feeling he had for Sungjin; the rush, the twisted tongue, the butterflies—but when he heard the conversation, he immediately knew why he was the way he was. He was fucking different. And he had to find out in the worst way possible._

 

_He was never scared of anything before—and it was ironic how the first thing he started to fear was his feelings. Next, of who he was becoming. Then, the world—and what they had to say._

 

_The next day, he quit every extra curricular and closed himself off of everyone. His new "friends", Jinyoung, and even Sungjin .  Maybe he was better off alone  at that point._

 

_Then the walls he built around him grew thicker. He didn’t want to be different._

 

* * *

 

 

"So we had to do it all over again! All those questionnaires." The person at the other end of the line grunts. "They barely even move in our group. It's frustrating."

 

"I think you should let your professors know about this. It isn't a group when you're doing all the work." Wonpil says calmly. He was back home now, after a long day of practice, calling a friend who was studying abroad. "And it's due what? The week after?"

 

"Right? I should just kick them out." She deadpanned.

 

Wonpil chuckles at her fieriness. He stretched his legs and arms out on his bed, placing his phone on his chest, leaving the call on loudspeaker.

 

"Do what you should do, _Momo_."

 

"I'll let you know when they're out." She said. "Then I'll come back home when we I pass this so we could drink away."

 

"Celebrate the fiasco, you mean." Wonpil teased, a boxy grin on his lips.

 

"Don't jinx it." She sighed. "But what about you? God, it's been so long since we last seen each other."

 

Wonpil didn't expect he'd meet  _Momo_ back in 7th grade. When he ran to the rooftop, he didn't know there'd be someone watching. She got there first before she witnessed how Wonpil broke down then she tried to help. After that, they swore they’d keep it between the two of them. They weren't friends, but they saw each other a lot at the rooftop during breaks. Sometimes, they'd talk, but oftentimes, they sat a meter apart in somehow comfortable silence. Eventually, they grew closer.

 

"It's just a year." Wonpil said. "And you know me. Nothing changed."

 

 _"But I miss you... "_  She said, her words trailing off. She knew he didn't like to respond to these kind of things so she continued talking. "Any news?"

 

"Well..." Wonpil thought if he should tell her he was in a band with Sungjin, but that would be too much to explain. "I'm thinking of visiting Japan."

 

"You always talk about wanting to come to Japan." She whined. "But you never plan."

 

"This time I might." Wonpil replied.

 

"Wait, are you serious?" The girl at the other end almost screamed. "Don't mess with me."

 

"I'm still thinking about it. I'm not sure."

 

"Well I won't keep my hopes up, knowing you. Just tell me when you're going, and maybe we can meet up somewhere in Tokyo."

 

It was meant to shade on him, but she sounded happy. Wonpil was, too—but maybe not too much. Something in him still felt uneasy. He just badly wanted to tell someone about the band and ask for reassurance that he was going to be fine—but he couldn't bring himself to tell Momo about it.

 

“Drinks are on me.” She added, and they both laugh.

 

"Alright." Wonpil replies. His eyes land on the clock. 12:52 AM. "We should sleep."

 

 _"Goodnight,"_  Her words hung for a short while. The next thing she said with a lower voice, a little hesitant. __"_ I love you."_

 

Wonpil was silent.

 

"Sorry, I just said out of habit. You know I don't—"

 

 _"I know."_   Wonpil cut through her sentence. He didn't want her to feel bad. __"_ Good night. Love you."_

 

There was silence at both ends of the line.

 

The next minute, Wonpil finally hung up.

 

 

_"Being different doesn't mean you're bad." She said, leaning against the wall while he clutched on the edge of the cement tight, still crying. "I would know. I'm different too."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations for reaching the end of the chapter T.T the next ones will still be a bit angsty but not for long.


	5. Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy chapter ahead! Will include some parts that mention violence and bullying. Please proceed with caution.

 

_“Move!”_

_The empty hallways resonated with clumps of footsteps from afar. Quickly, the sounds multiplied, and the echoes grew louder by each step._

_A heavy thump snaps Sungjin awake—then following instinct, his upper body jolts up—vision hazy from bursting his eyes open too soon. Previous images of his teammates racing in laps gradually dispelled as he realized that he wasn’t in training after all. He began to grasp a clearer image of his surrounding; a blackboard wasn’t exactly what a gym would have. He rubs the remaining sleep off his eyes and angrily heads to the door._

_His sensitivity to sound wasn’t quite a friend to him today. People were running just now, right? But the hallways were empty. He had to make sure he heard right._

_The door swung open and he peeks outside. Confused, the boy squints his eyes, expecting to see his teammates hiding behind the lockers and jumping out to tease him, but there really weren’t any. Not a single shadow, until… A silhouette appeared by the far end of the hallway, where everything faded into darkness. His breath hitched along with the sudden urge to close the door. Flustered at his own reaction, he peeks through the small window at least, after he made sure the door was locked._

_Was that… Wonpil?_

_And he was running._

_Footsteps were heavy again, but this time, irregular._

_The boy scurried toward Sungjin’s direction, and the latter wondered if he should walk out and greet him. Finally, they can talk, he thought, oblivious to his friend's unusual pace. The next thing he wished he could have looked out for._

_As the boy drew closer, Sungjin’s grip on the door knob grew tight. A soft wail went louder and louder until it was physically agonizing. This time he was sure where it came from._

_Wonpil was crying._

_The boy stopped running right in front of his classroom to catch heavy breaths. The first thing Sungjin saw had him startled—bloodshot eyes underneath roughly tangled curls, and… his uniform that was nowhere near tidy. The grim details on the boy's small frame started to register in Sungjin’s vision as he stared longer. Wonpil was bruised. Just about everywhere his eyes allowed itself. Purple, red, and another color he couldn’t distinguish spread across his skin in all ways terrifying._

_Who did this to him?_

_Wonpil drags both his arms across his face in futile effort to stop the tears running down. His eyes desperately searches around—right past through Sungjin—for anything. Anything that Sungjin could have offered if he wasn’t darn invisible. If only he could twist the knobs. But soon he realized something was off. He couldn’t even move. Not a single flinch. Soon, he was seconds behind from his regular breathing pattern._

_How could he help when he couldn’t even breathe for his own sake?_

_Just in front of where he stood—class 8-A, was the room for class 8-B. An ominous feeling washed over his body as the window from the room across went pitch-black. Then his heart stopped when Wonpil slowly looked over the said room._

_Was he going… in?_

_Sungjin’s jaw clenched to oppose his need to scream. Why was his body not letting him?_

_He can’t go in there._

_Wonpil took a last look around before he fixated his gaze back on the dark window._

_He can’t go in there._

_Wonpil reaches for the door knob._

_…_

_“NO!”_

 

* * *

 

 

**“No!”**

 

The coach shouts from across the court for the nth time—caution hinted in his tone. His eyebrows furrowed toward the player with the black jersey and the other one in civilian.

 

_“Park Sungjin!”_

 

The next thing he knew, number 22 was on the ground with another player. Everything was a mess. Their center wasn’t listening at all. And the other guy was about to throw fists. The coach blows a hard whistle in hopes to cut through the riot that was forming in the middle of their training session. But still, nothing worked.

 

“What the fuck was that for?” The first guy shouts, glaring out the other guy who was still on the ground. Two other players clung on him to stop him from whatever he was planning to do with his fists.

 

“Swing it.” Sungjin backfires, getting up to his feet. His voice echoed through the entire room. “Just throw the damn punch if you aren’t scared!”

 

Everyone in the gym most likely gasped, even their coach—Mr. Park. But the old man wasn’t letting that happen under his custody. These kids could go all out elsewhere, but definitely not in the University in between a training session. He had a job to keep. And the kids couldn't get risk getting kicked out, unless they really wanted to. The coach slips through the middle of the crowd of players before he grabbed his student by the arm.

 

Sungjin didn’t protest when his professor dragged him toward the gym’s exit.

 

“You know better than to fight that kid,” The old man mumbles, loud enough that only two of them could hear.

 

“He was getting in my nerves.” Sungjin remarked as he shook his head to the side. “I would if I have to.”

 

“Do you even _hear_ yourself?” The man snorts. Finally, they reach the the hallway where he knew no one else would be listening. “He could get kicked out and he wouldn’t give a damn about losing the position. He’s rich. You’re here because you need a scholarship, _remember that_.”

 

Sungjin was silent, the adrenaline rush finally subsided. The coach examined his expression, and the pale look on his face made him worry.

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

“That…” The boy cleared out his throat, realizing he’d been speaking to his coach this whole time. He shouldn't have talked like that. “No sir. I… I’m sorry for causing trouble.”

 

“I’m not talking about what happened back there,” Mr. Park crossed his arms as his player’s head hung low before him. “You aren’t in good condition today. You keep descending behind the team.”

 

Sungjin kept his head low, wordless. It was true he couldn't focus today, but he can't find the proper words to explain why. Lack of sleep wasn’t an excuse, because it never troubled him that much to begin with. He comes to training with a slight fever and he’ll always do just fine, but he wasn’t sick today.

 

Truthfully, it was all because of the _dream_ he had two nights ago. But it isn’t that easy to explain how or why a nightmare would bother him so much considering that he threw a punch at his new teammate's jaw just now, _right?_  He didn’t want to come off like he was joking.

 

The old man sighed deeply and dropped his arms to the side, expecting that he wouldn't get an answer.

 

“Everyone has problems.” The coach reached out for the boy’s hand—still balled in a tight fist—colored bright red somewhere near the knuckles. “I’ll have to suspend the both of you today. Come back next time with a clearer mind."

 

"Yes sir." Sungjin relieves the tension on his hand and the coach let it go right after. 

 

"That's not a request.” Mr. Park turned away from the boy to head back to the gym. "You're dismissed."

 

Sungjin nods slowly, aware that the man wasn't looking anymore. He _had_  to come back and force himself to be on good terms with that new guy. He had to do it for the team, and for him self, at least. Or else he wouldn't be here living out his dreams with free passes. He wouldn’t be studying in this university.

 

Finally, the coach was out of sight, and Sungjin exhales. Mr. Park wasn’t letting him off the hook—he was giving him a lesson. The boy has never been suspended like this—not for a petty reason, at least. He wasn’t the person to get into fights.

 

And he wasn’t about to turn himself into that. _Not again_.

 

 

The next thirty minutes he spent in the athletes’ shower room was calming, more than anything. He didn’t know where the other guy went—probably to the clinic or home, and it was his least concern. Having the entire room to himself while all the others were in training was all he needed.

 

“This doesn’t feel like a punishment,” Sungjin chuckled to himself as he stepped out of the hot bath. Soon, the smile faded into a scowl as he walked toward the lockers where a huge mirror stood before him.

 

The makeup he used to draw on the sparse area of his brow had washed off, revealing the light skin underneath. His mind drifts to the scene earlier.

 

_“See that guy over there?” The new guy pointed over to a friend of his. “There’s some rumors about him. They’re pretty wild.”_

_“Like it matters anyway.” He spat. Sungjin didn’t care about what news circulated around his teammates at all. It just wasn’t his business._

_“Not until you hear it.” The guy beside him smirks, and draws closer to whisper something he didn’t have to hear._

Sungjin breathes heavily and continues to dry his hair with a towel. Good thing he didn’t earn a scar like _that_  today.

 

And he hoped he didn’t have to earn another anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Sungjin wasn’t the guy to get into fights._

_Really, he wasn’t—not until he had to._

_He didn’t build a reputation only for it to come crashing back down after all that hard work. He didn't sacrifice the time he should have spent with his friends for training—just for his teammates to go and tell the guy who made him do basketball he was “disgusting”._

_The last thing he wanted was a suspension—or worse, an expulsion—but none of that was applicable when it was the last day of 8th grade and he was leaving the school anyway. His grandmother fell sick, and he had to leave for Busan next week—but that was another story. For now, the mere thought of leaving Wonpil in this damned school by himself with these jerks was unbearable._

_During that time, it made sense that he make the boys take back their words—for saying he was a "jerk", or that Lee Jiwon was a “wench”, or that Kim Wonpil was "nasty". He decided to throw a fist on the third one, since he didn’t want to hear any more names coming out from their mouths._

_No one deserved the things they were being called._

_The boy quickly slammed the door to the cubicle open and punched some sense on the first guy. It didn’t matter that he was hitting his own teammate. It didn’t matter how many matches they won, or how many girls he had been introduced to by him. Sungjin climbed on the guy and did what he felt was right to do at that moment, like his very life depended on it._

_He couldn't believe he considered them his "team". Perhaps he shouldn't have asked Wonpil if he should join basketball back in 6th grade. If only he knew the people he had grown to trust would come around and bite his back. And his friend’s._

_The second guy pulled him by the collar and Sungjin glided across the compact restroom, onto an edge. The next thing he knew, the floor was brushed red, and that the two boys had sprinted out of the room with their fair share of bruises._

_Maybe they were right about what they called him from the very sart, back when he had first moved in the school._

_Maybe Sungjin was a jerk._

_But he was sure Wonpil wasn’t. He deserved to be respected._

 

* * *

 

 

Sungjin’s chest grew heavy from remembering what happened back in 8th grade before he left. Worrying about what could have happened after his disappearance had become his habit for the past five years—and facing the outcome only makes him think worse.

 

Was it the right decision to do that back then? _Did he do the right decision now?_

 

He drops an incoming call from __someone__  before he could even read the entire name. He wasn't in the right mood to talk. Not when his throat ached and his mind was tangled up.

 

The road was empty at around 10 PM, as Sungjin walked home from the gym after a quick workout, in hopes that it would clear his mind. Clearly, it didn’t.

 

He waits beside the stoplight—and the next thing he saw was the only thing he needed to snap him out of his anxious thoughts.

 

Just across the street stood a guy. Green light flashed just above his face and it was undeniable—the eyes beneath those familiar tousled curls—he was surely looking back at him.

 

It’s only been five days since they’ve last seen each other, but it almost felt like that day when they met at the coffee shop for the first time again.

 

 _Kim Wonpil_ stood frozen on the other side of the road—skin and eyes clear, completely unscathed—not crying, nor bruised. His mouth hung open as per usual.

 

Maybe Sungjin didn’t want to admit he missed him.

 

And maybe Wonpil didn’t want to look him in the eye any further.

 

_But both couldn’t deny, and it was certain—that their hearts skipped a beat._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a lighter one :) Alsoo! Don't forget to add [ #MGMAVOTE #DAY6 #데이식스   
> @day6official ] to your tweets and stream! Let's give our boys their win!


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